


The Vices of Men

by ArthurShmarthur



Category: Penny Dreadful (TV)
Genre: Angst, Ethor, Fate, Love, M/M, Vice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-23
Updated: 2014-06-23
Packaged: 2018-02-05 23:38:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1836352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArthurShmarthur/pseuds/ArthurShmarthur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Victor turns to the drink to solve his problems but only creates more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Vices of Men

**Author's Note:**

> Attention all Penny Dreadful fans.
> 
> We hereby christen the romantic relationship between Ethan Chandler and Victor Frankenstein to now and from this day forward be referred to as the Ethor Ship! May she never sail straight!
> 
> Your Captains,
> 
> Ihaveinnerdemons and I medici-venus
> 
> We bring to you, one, if not the only, Ethor fanfic The Vices of Men:

Victor sat at the back of the pub, having occupied the corner booth for the majority of the night while becoming intimately acquainted with the soon to be empty brandy bottle. Dark smudges lay under his eyes from exhaustion and the tiniest hint of madness the young scientist was on the verge of. Every time the door opened he would jerk up and scan the room as if waiting for someone, or something, to snatch him up into the London night. The flickering candlelight danced across his sweating face although everyone else in the bar was bundled up from the frigid night air that seeped through the cracks of the improvised bar. 

Against his better judgment, the effects of the liquor began to hit Victor as his head kept nodding down as he threatened to fall asleep. Each time he would jump up, even violently hitting his leg against the table during the motion, look around in fright, and sink back down in his leather seat. The inexperienced drinker hadn’t known the alcohol would have done the opposite effect, tiring him even more rather than keeping him awake. 

His fingers began to twitch against the wooden table, a poor attempt at staying awake. Furthermore, not just a nervous twitch but an impulse for something more. Something darker, to take away the edge…to lose himself. He had sought to cut himself off the morphine in a poor attempt to be more alert for when his demons would come out and strike. The opposite problem was occurring, the paranoia was worse, he felt weaker. The solution was easy, start shooting up again. The problem, lack of funds. Even then, not entirely a lack of funds more of a fear of returning home to his drug stash and the various drawers filled with emergency cash. The bank was out of the question; his enemy knew which one to stalk. Daylight was Victor’s enemy but the Night...that was where the true danger lurked. So instead, to fight the craving, cheap alcohol was the solution in a crowded pub where Victor could blend into the shadows without the fear of being murdered. But nowhere was truly safe, only the illusion of safety. 

The door swung open and tiny specks of snow twirled through the air. The stranger wore a long coat with the collar up, casting his face in shadow, already chiefly hidden beneath a hat. The man walked up to the bar and pointed to the whisky bottle signifying the bartender to pour him a glass. One gulp and the drink was gone, the empty glass banging against the bar waiting for another shot to be poured. This time the man turned around with the whisky in his hand. He took a small sip and scanned the room measuring his surroundings, always looking for his quick escape if necessary. His eyes fell upon the heap that was Victor. At first the man paid no attention but then, as the young scientist stirred and moved positions, his face became clearer and recognition flashed in the stranger’s eyes. Taking a quick swig of his drink and dropping another empty glass on the table he moved over to Victor. 

“So this is where you have wandered my friend.” The man said in his thick American accent.

Victor jumped up and quickly grabbed the bottle and aimlessly threw it in front of himself as a make-shift weapon, booze spilling out onto the table and himself.

“Woah there partner, I mean you no harm.” The man said, his hands slowly put up in a gesture of peace. 

“Ethhhhan?” Victor said, slurring his words from the combination of booze and sleep.

“That’s right doctor. Now put down that bottle and tell me what troubles you. I’ve never known you to be a drinker” 

“You don’tttt KnOw anything, cowboe.” Victor managed to get out, still swishing the bottle around and coming closer to Ethan. The only thing was that the table still stood between them. Unnoticing, Victor came at Ethan and hit the table with full force knocking the breath out of him and bringing the bottle crashing down as he finally and mercifully fell into the darkness…

***

Victor woke up with a pounding headache. He rubbed at his sore eyes and grazed his fingers against the smallest stubble on his face. He didn’t need to feel his hair to know it was sticking up as if had gotten electrocuted. Finally getting his eyes to focus and becoming more alert, Victor sat up abruptly realizing he was unsure of his surroundings. Briskly, he learned the folly of such a decision as he leaned over the bed and violently threw up the bourbon from the night before. After much dry heaving, Victor collapsed back onto the bed no longer worried about his fate. If death were to come, let it come soon he thought to himself. 

The door opened but Victor kept his eyes closed, hoping to pretend to be asleep or at least not see what was surely the deathblow to follow.

“You better clean that up.” A familiar voice said. “ I may be your friend but there are limits.” 

Victor opened up his eyes and gazed into Ethan’s honey colored eyes. 

“How did I get here?” He said, relief washing over him that he had somehow miraculously ended up in the hands of an ally. At least for the moment. 

“Do you not remember anything from last night?” Ethan asked, sitting down on the opposite side of the bed, far away from Victor’s mess. 

“My recollection is a bit…foggy.” Victor said, no longer able to look at Ethan. He clutched onto the white bed sheet and began to twist it nervously. 

“Well…you don’t really handle your liquor very well I have to say. You’re just a little pup.”

“Did I…do anything embarrassing?” Victor timidly asked. 

“Well, you attempted to start a bar fight with me and then knocked yourself unconscious. I had to pay the tab and then haul your tiny behind out of there. I dumped you at my place for the time being, don’t know where you take your shoes off and call home.” 

Victor glanced around the room, noticing just how bare it was. Essentially there was a bed, a small table, a mirror, and that was about it.

“Where did you sleep?” Victor asked.

Ethan grinned, “I didn’t.” 

Mortified by his lack of manners Victor attempted to get up again while mumbling his apologies and preparing to gather his belongings and leave while he could hold onto whatever honor he might still potentially own. 

“Hey, hey, partner, lay back down. What’s your rush? You’re fine, I promise.”

“I have embarrassed myself and taken advantage of your hospitality.” Victor said, holding the sheets up to his body. 

“What are friends for?” Ethan replied. “I’ve been worried about you, Victor. You disappeared a while from Sir Malcolm’s but I just assumed your expertise was not needed at the moment. But then when Ms Ives had me go find you and you weren’t at your apartment I began to worry. I checked at the medical facilities, heck, I started checking street gutters; I’m no stranger to the backlashes of addiction. But there was nothing and we thought maybe you had gone back to Germany. Then, lo and behold, I find you unexpectedly in a bar drunk as a skunk.” Ethan paused, hoping for some kind of explanation. 

Victor sat at the bed, looking at his old friend, the man who had taught him how to shoot. His friend who had seen the same monsters as him, to fight the creatures of the night. But no, there was still one monster he was not aware of. Victor’s own personal haunting. He couldn’t drag Ethan into this. Not when he…well he…felt…he…

“I really must go.” Victor said, getting out of the bed and grabbing for his boots. “I’ll send someone to clean up my mess,” He said, not daring to look over at Ethan.

He felt a hand gently placed on his shoulder. A moment of comfort. It took all his resolve to not just lay his head onto Ethan and cry over his fate. 

Victor let go of his shoelaces and slowly turned around. 

“Victor, if something is wrong, you know I would help you to the best of my abilities, do you not?” 

Victor’s heart sunk. “This is why I can’t ask you any favors, Ethan. You can’t always be the hero.”

“You know I’m no hero.” Ethan said, the shadow of despair crossing his face. He was always keeping his emotions in check, never dropping that wall for anyone. “But trust me, I can protect you.”

“Not from this.” Victor whispered.

“What can be so terrible? What can be worse then the things we have faced together?” Ethan inquired.

“Myself.” Victor replied. 

He hastily tied up his shoes and grabbed his coat at the end of the bed and made an attempt to leave the room. A hand latched onto his delicate wrist, maybe bruising it, pulling him back. Victor awkwardly bumped into Ethan’s chest, as he was whiplashed back. Flustered, Victor tried to ask what in the world was Ethan doing when he felt rough, scarred hands cusp his face and he felt the sting of Ethan’s beard against his face as the cowboy pressed his lips to Victor’s. 

At first the kiss was small, a test, but when Victor didn’t back away it became more desperate, more passionate, as Ethan crushed his lips to Victor’s in a violent moment of lust. A lifetime later, he broke free from Victor, still holding onto his face.

“Please, don’t leave me.” Ethan said. There it was, the walls had fallen. Vulnerability. 

“Don’t you see?” Victor said, trying to keep his composure. “I have to leave. He said he would kill what I love most in the world. I have stayed too long.” his voice shaking. From fear, from want. 

“Who Victor? Who wishes you harm? I’m the sharpest shooter probably in the world. Let me protect you.”

“You dumb cowboy, let me save you for once.” Victor pleaded. “This is my own battle.” 

“Victor…” But the scientist began to pull away, Ethan’s hands falling limply to his side.

“I do this out of love.” Victor said. “I would never forgive myself if any harm came to you. It’s why I left. Why I need to go further away. I secretly wished to see you one last time. And hopefully it has not damned you, too.” 

“Please.” Ethan said, one last desperate plea.

“I love you, Ethan Chandler.” Victor Frankenstein said, shutting the door behind him. Hopefully, in everyone’s best interest, for good.

**Author's Note:**

> This is not my work, but my friend doesn't want to get her own Ao3 as she's afraid it will be a rabbit hole of sorts. But, you can take all of your wonderful comments to her on her tumblr: medici-venus.tumblr.com
> 
> I'll be posting my Ethor ficlet shortly. :)


End file.
